


Party Crasher

by Swashbuckler



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Perspectives On Events, Deleted Scenes, Fast Food, Friendship, Gen, Glitter, Newspapers, Original Character(s), Painting, Supervillains, Vandalism, of a sort, of the fic writing sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swashbuckler/pseuds/Swashbuckler
Summary: No one ever expects Jerrie and Axel to be friends, and that's half the fun.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 13





	1. Party Crasher

**Author's Note:**

> A expansion on the idea of Axel crashing Jerrie Rathaway's debutante ball that I mentioned in "Casting Shadows". :)

## 

Rathaway Party Target of Rogue Attack 

_Last night, the Rathaway manor was targeted by the Trickster in an attack that disrupted a private function hosted by Osgood and Rachel Rathaway._

_The Rathaways had been celebrating the formal introduction of their daughter, Guinevere "Jerrie" Rathaway, into high society through the tradition of a debutante ball - a prestigious coming-of-age event for young women from aristocratic families - when the local hell-raiser launched an attack on the manor house and its guests. The Trickster - which eyewitnesses confirmed to be the second incarnation of the Rogue, Axel Walker - broke in shortly after the event was underway and bombarded the Rathaways and their guests with projectiles loaded with paint and glitter._

_This is not the Rathaways' first dealings with one of the Rogues of Central City. Jerrie Rathaway became the sole heir of the Rathaway estate and publishing house after the Rathaway's son, Hartley Rathaway - more widely known as the infamous former Rogue, "Pied Piper" - was disinherited shortly after his eighteenth birthday. While Osgood and Rachel have publicly reconciled with their son, Hartley has not been reinstated as the Rathaway's legal successor. It is speculated that Jerrie will go on to become the head of the Rathaways' company in the coming years._

_The Trickster failed to be apprehended following his attack on the Rathaways' party; how Axel Walker made it past the Rathaways' private security is yet to be seen. While the Rogues of Central City are known to primarily operate in a group, last night the Trickster appeared to be acting alone as there were no reported sightings of the rest of the Flash's Rogues at Rathaway Manor. Axel Walker has been frequently considered the 'wildcard' of the Rogues. It has been assumed that the Trickster's rationale for gatecrashing Rathaway Manor was solely to further his reputation as a professional troublemaker._

_The Rathaways have yet to comment on the evening's events._

* * *

"This is an outrage!"

The gilded ballroom of Rathaway Manor was a clamouring mess of paint and old money, aristocrats and shrill indignation, and in the centre of the disaster a cluster of private security were flanking Osgood and Rachel Rathaway, all wearing black suits that were painfully devoid of paint.

"How did he get in? You told me you had people on the doors, the servants' entrance, that you checked the windows--!" Osgood shouted at the group. A plume of yellow and green powder paint had been thrown over his suit. "Don't just stand there staring at me like idiots, I want an answer!" Pink glitter was crusted in his moustache. "If Hartley's had anything to do with this," Osgood muttered to his wife.

"Oh, you know he'd never do that to Jerrie," Rachel snapped, scrubbing at the stain of purple powder paint across her collar and shoulder with a makeup wipe, a compact in hand. "Besides Hartley never worked with the second Trickster. I don't even think they know each other."

"All of that lot know each other," Osgood growled as he punched a number into his phone. "For goodness sake I thought the CCPD had cracked down on the city's supervillain problem-- Hello, yes, I _would_ like the CCPD. My house was just attacked by a Rogue," he spat. "The damage control we're going to need," he muttered to Rachel, jerking his head at the hysterical crowd around the ballroom. 

"Hush, no we won't." Rachel had committed her attention to trying to clean the orange paint she'd previously missed out of her eyebrows. "Our party was ruined, our daughter - our first and only daughter, at that - had this evening stolen from her. If anyone is anything less than sympathetic they will soon learn how wrong they are."

"I want that boy found, do you hear me? What do you mean, 'who'? The Trickster! He just caused a riot at our house! Rathaway Manor. No. Do not-- Don't you dare put me on hold!" Osgood swore at his phone, then rounded on his security team. 

"It was the Mirror Master, wasn't it? It had to have been. That's how he got in." 

"We removed all the mirrors from this floor, sir--" 

"The windows then! Something, anything! Hello--" Osgood returned his phone to his ear. "Yes, Osgood Rathaway. My daughter's ball was just ruined by your department's negligence. Do you have any idea how fragile she is? Do you have any idea how this will impact my family's reputation? The effort we put into making sure our public image is secure--" He gagged and wiped paint from his lip. 

"Where is Jerrie? She'll be devastated that her party was ruined," Rachel said, smoothing out her hair.

"She was--" Osgood gestured vaguely across the room, then froze. "Wait--" 

Osgood and Rachel looked at each other.

_"--where is Jerrie?"_

* * *

Jerrie took a bite of her burger. She watched the bright dots of car headlights zip past on the highway past the bank at the end of the parking lot. She looked down at her lap. Beneath fast food wrappers and a half-eaten portion of fries, her white debutante dress was stained with powder paint and liquid paint and glitter in - six, seven - eight different colours and was very permanently ruined. 

Jerrie chewed thoughtfully. It was a definite improvement. 

The rest of her looked much the same. She had splatters of paint up her arms, a loud neon remix of her freckles. She flipped down the car's sunvisor and appraised her face in its little mirror. A vivid purple spray of paint across one cheek, a cluster of colours splattered across the other, glitter mingling in the mix. There was yellow paint congealing in her red hair and on her neck. She cocked her head to the side, squinting. Then, carefully, she wiped a trace of glitter away from the corner of her eye with a clean finger. She flipped the sunvisor closed and sat back, colourful and content, and took another bite of her burger.

"Hey." Jerrie looked round as a box was jostled a box at her. "Want one?"

Jerrie nodded, still chewing. She tapped her fingers to her lips and drew them away in a quick _'thank you'_ before pinching a greasy onion ring out of the takeaway box with carefully manicured nails. Axel took one himself, wedging it into his mouth with a cluster of fries as he stuffed the box down beside the gearstick where they could both it.

Axel kicked back in his seat, deeply proud of himself. He was mostly clean, however, when he dropped his feet up on the dashboard of his car, Jerrie could see splashes of colour on his calves; paint that had ricocheted off the floors, the walls, her parents' guests...

Jerrie swallowed. "Can I do that too?"

"What?" Axel asked. Jerrie pointed to his trainers. "Oh, sure," Axel said with shrug and a mouth full of fries. "Lever on the door side'll move your seat back too if you want."

Jerrie didn't hesitate. She tugged the hem of her long dress up a fraction, glanced at Axel, then shuffled in her seat to copy his slouch. She kicked her legs up and a pair of once white kitten heels were propped up on the dashboard of Axel's car alongside his trainers.

Axel watched her do this with curious, bewildered amusement. "Happy?" he asked.

Jerrie settled in her seat and tapped the toes of her shoes together with a giddy smile. "Very."

* * *

"Hey, Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"When's prom normally?" 

Alexander paused his sweeping.

"Like, June, I think? Maybe?" Alexander guessed, scratching his thumb under the edge of his work cap. He peered over the counter. "Uh, Jem? What are you doing?"

His coworker was hanging out of the drive-thru window. Alexander glanced back at the near-empty Big Belly Burger restaurant floor before propping his broom against the wall and shuffling round the counter to join her in her booth.

"What's going on? Why'd you wanna know when prom is?" Alexander asked, peering out of the drive thru window a little less precariously than his friend was in order to join her in spying on the single car parked in the restaurant lot.

Jem gawked at him. "Because you're not gonna _believe_ who just came through the drive-thru."


	2. Alternate Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't actually a second chapter or a sequel. When originally writing this fic I had an idea for a slight variant on the Rathaways' snippet that I liked but didn't want to include as part of the main fic. 
> 
> This is that variant; it's not part of the fic's 'canon', it's just a bit of fun. :>

***

"This is an outrage!"

The gilded ballroom of Rathaway Manor was a clamouring mess of paint and old money, aristocrats and shrill indignation, and in the centre of the disaster a cluster of private security were flanking Osgood and Rachel Rathaway, all wearing sharp black suits that were painfully clean and devoid of paint.

"I want answers!" Osgood shouted at the group. A plume of yellow and green powder paint had been thrown over his suit and there was pink paint smeared down his right cheek. "How did he get in? You told me you had people on the doors, the servant's entrance, that you had checked all the windows--!" Osgood raised his hands and looked to his wife. "It was the Mirror Master. Had to have been. That's how he got in." 

"Cannae've been the Mirror Master," reassured one of the guards. "We made sure he cannae get in." 

"Yeah," said the man at his side, brown hair flecked with snowy grey. "And you didn't see any other Rogues, right?" 

"They're clever," muttered Osgood. "Perhaps they stayed out of sight while the Trickster caused a distraction."

The security team shared disbelieving looks. "Subtlety don't sound like the Rogues," a large bald man offered seriously.

"If the Rogues were here," a dark haired man said smoothly, selecting a tiny salmon entree from a passing dumbfounded and colourful waiter and inspecting it for glitter, "we would be the first to know. The Trickster had to be working alone on this one," he said breezily.

Osgood made a furious noise. "For goodness sake, just make yourselves useful and find that boy!"

"Yes, sir," the four said as one, leaving Osgood with his wife, all four swiping a glass of champagne on their way out.

***


End file.
